


Virtuous

by TheWhitesOfYourEyes



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: M/M, One sided conversation, Other, Post-Canon, existentialism???? idk., talk of death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:06:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26572663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWhitesOfYourEyes/pseuds/TheWhitesOfYourEyes
Summary: In the forest,there sits a stone.And before the stone,There stands a man.
Relationships: Bill Cipher & Ford Pines, Bill Cipher/Ford Pines
Comments: 3
Kudos: 31





	Virtuous

**Author's Note:**

> Virtuous  
> Adjective. 'Having or showing a high moral standard."  
> \- Oxford Dictionary
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=766Kd8jw8f0&ab_channel=PleasePourAcidonMe  
> I like this song

_In the forest,_

_there sits a stone._

_And before the stone,_

_There stands a man._

And before the stone,

The man speaks.

“Hello, old friend.”

The man is old, but his eyes are older. A scarf is wrapped loosely around his neck- it is the beginning of September, and the mornings are cold and crisp. He can see his breath in the air. His hands are nestled deep within his pockets.

The stone says nothing. The man does not know what he expected. Still, a stab of sickening disappointment swirls in his guts.

“We’re sailing out today,” he says. “I’ve been doing my final rounds before we head out. Stanley insisted upon it. I’ve been thanking everyone who helped during your apocalypse, meeting people I never had the chance to get to know.” He sighs. “I’ve been saying a lot of goodbyes.”

The man rubs the back of his head. His ears are numb. He should have worn a hat.

“It only seems right to say goodbye to you too. Given our history.”

A butterfly lands on the stone’s outstretched hand. The shock of yellow against the grey is an eyesore. The man would squash the bug had he the will to touch the stone.

The man is no fool. He keeps his distance.

He continues. “It’s been… Freeing, with you dead. I’ve been able to relax-relatively- for the first time in over 30 years. Of course, we’re still dealing with the rifts your apocalypse caused, and the anomaly in Iceland certainly seems to be related to that, but.” He stares into the single eye. “I suppose it’s easier to deal with a problem when it is faceless.”

A bird sings a love song from the trees. Evening Grosbeak, from the sound of it. The man lets the bird finish its song before he continues.

“I’ve been thinking,” he starts, and he can almost hear the mocking laughter.

 _Well, that’s a first!_ The stone would say, had it the capacity to speak.

The man clenches his fists. He swallows. “I’ve been thinking about… our time in the pyramid.”

His shoulders burn. “When you tortured me.”

He is trembling. Electricity courses through his veins. He feels his heart stop.

“How many times did you kill me?”

How many times can one person have a near death experience before they’ve truly experienced death?

“I remember dying. In other circumstances, a near death experience would have been enlightening. Considering the circumstances, I didn’t really have much time to appreciate the glimpse of the other side. I’ve been mulling over the experience.”

He’s quiet for a moment. The man shivers from the cold. “There was nothing.”

“I’ve never put much stock in religious ideas, but I expected… Something, after the end.” The man chuckles bitterly. “Not very scientific, I suppose. Still, it doesn’t hurt to hope.”

The stone regards him with a silent glare. The man sighs. “I’ll assume, for my own mental well being, that whatever occurred in your apocalypse has no bearing upon the real world. I’d like to think there’s a heaven or hell, however superstitious it may appear.”

The man smiles. “Maybe I’ll see you again, wherever we all end up.”

He hopes not.

He listens to the wind. It whistles through stone fingers.

The old man smiles. “You know, I never really knew the equation.”

He can almost feel the rage emanating from the stone. He imagines the anger, and it feels good.

“I could have figured it out easily, to be fair. But you didn’t seem to have the patience for that. I was prepared to die, and I did, and you never questioned anything. Why did you believe me? You’re smarter than that. Were you humoring me?”

The accusations hang in the air like frozen rain.

Questions asked with no hope of answer.

The old man looks towards the sun. It is just beginning to rise above the trees, yellow and orange bleeding into pink across the morning sky. He lets the silence hang for minutes, contemplating the fading shades.

“Out of curiosity,” he eventually ventures.

“If I had accepted your offer,” he asks the stone, “would you have, truly, let me join you?”

The stone offers no reply.

The man sighs. “I thought as much.”

The butterfly takes flight as the man steps forward.

He places his foot on the outstretched arm.

He leans his weight onto his leg,

And the thin stone snaps beneath him like a twig.


End file.
